This Song's Title

{Dante of (Mood)} Yo, move recite chapters Rappers write scripts for actors Don't rap about the facts, till they attack the catch Handcuff the shackel, stand up get tackled The featers of your leaders heaters on their Adam's apple Keep quiet, be silent the sphere no weak vibe We defy, a new in it root, for street wise Got to stop it, and taxes for guns, wars and wackers Puttin prophet's in their pockets And lock it till I promise {Dante & Main Flow (of Mood)} MF: They stoled knots, hold spots, trapped in the road block DT: We globetrot, we roll pop, running from old cops MF: The whole shots, cold plots, Babylon's gold pot DT: Loan Glocks, cold shots, set off like we sold rocks {Main Flow (of Mood)} We dealing with NARCS and cases Deaths over parking spaces Evil hearts are races, or higher dark places Brutality on mark faces, car chases Incarceration, unite so we can spark the nation {Nine} You got the right to remain silent and at the same time You got the right to remain violent and aim nines They got no love for, just slugs for you Who want it? I fight back like a rat when he cornered Catch me at the light, windows tinted, 35 percent Breakin ya neck, to see who's in it What is my intent? Trying to live, without the nonsense You dying to give {Tiye Phoenix} Yo yo, the spokesqueen, number one Tiye Phonenix The black Venus Demalo Dopper then Tae Bo, every man, woman and child know We unified force against the shooters of Diallo And now there sure to lose like Luther at the Apollo For Amistad to Amadou, attacked in these streets The term COP really stands for Cappin Our Peeps They shot a 40 round, are brother got slaughtered down We push thru the border now, Jahad hold it born down {Brezzly Brewn' (of the Juggaknots)} You wanna be a fuckin accident, the beast was barkin You wanna know how many accidents to rob a New Yorker? And the possible attrocity Millimeters from the kids set the Glock With a ferocity, seemin as it's inbread While I stated innocent, but stressing it You sure that it was decolit It could of been an isolated incident Nothing was found, no hard feelings I fight bad guys Strutting around like Keith Christ huttin the site Airtime {Talib Kweli} This goes out to MC's who used to rock in Washington Square Park Now Guiliani got it locked after dark, so he mastered the art Of livin the death, shadow is a, nuff of a battle To dodge the police And have to rise above the trap of the barrel My people spill blood in the streets I'm never running from beast Can I get a response from all the revolutionaries in this piece? (yeah!!) What up, cuz of the way we think they want to incarcerate us They think time will break us, but time won't break us {Punchline} I rock a vest even when I take shots to the balls The type that write the word police on a unmarked car I resent you, gettin off easy if they suspend you I end you, hope they use your own gun against you It's all mental, my man died in the streets I'm pouring out liquor, until there's nuthin to drink That's how many cats died, slaid by the beast That night, 5-0 held caught in the streets *scratching by El P & Mr. Len of Company Flow* {El-P} Petrofied little venomist, school yard outcasts From disfunctional world of redneck garbage Community bitch out, seekin power over Confiscate from miniscule shit court And repress sexual activity style Need of location when standing Spliff of the semi-retarted, or pro defensive Spontaneous violence and compasive lying Package dukes that has a lunchbox with a Glock And Ku Klux decoder ring Who sing Kumbaya to the tune of a man dying {Jah-Born (of Medina Green)} Y'all seen the front page? another black man slayed By the beast hit with a rain, or 4 Glocks got sprayed Hey Giuliani, was 41 shots necessary? Now my people's got to worry, bout the cops that be killin me Justice? All I see is Just Us Gettin knocked locked and bust, without a word discussed NYPD, should be NYPIG I don't deal with the swine, don't want swine dealin with me {What?What?} These shot happy motherfuckers legally ready to blaze With raised triggas and cocked back with plans to fake figgas Who black and innocent, Fuck it let's get militant Run up in the precint, strapped with gats With full clips loaded, aimed at there heads Stay in the feds, double 20 plus one round to blood red Revenge, we must return to avenge my brother, we coming The first sister holdin the lead {John Forte} El Capitano keep my guns high I run from New York cuz I'm alumni The fact I'm in it, half street, half academic I memorize my stash number, the flash number Ya pig stinch, plus your badge number Ya precinct, and the Irish lad you served under I'm probaly grinding drugs, come from hittin the kitchen A black man in a pretty car will fit the description You gettin informed quick You racist fuck, I was born in it {Mr. Khaliyl} I seen it happen before, and it could happen again You on a block mine on your own and then you let by your friends Cuz they ain't down to scrap, just wanna ride in your Benz But when the cops is on the beat, that's when the party begins Like a karate picture, the way the mop the floor with ya All caught up in the heat, not a doctor can stitch you Nobody movin with you, cuz you really ain't bout it Now there's fear in your heart, and there's blood in your mouth It's like something we never seen before It's almost like we dreamed it all Live or die, either or, my blood is what they fiending for My people's screamin for the justice we deserve Set 41 back, we leaving 22 in the curb *more scratching*